Sunday, June 1, 2008

Attack Of The Clancy Brothers

Have you ever pulled up to a stop-light, and had some idiot roll up next to you with his mega-watt stereo blasting the hardest ghetto rap imaginable?

Of course you have. And I have the cure.

Tonight, I'm at the Circle K, waiting in the car while Wifey shops inside. Up rolls the stereotypical black Escalade with 22 inch chrome rims, and every other word starts with "f" or "n" from the sound system, booming loud enough to be heard a block away.

Little known fact: Honda Pilots have excellent sound systems of their own. You want woofers, fella? I got your woofers right here... Feeling a bit like Dirty Harry telling the bad guy he's packing a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and can blow your head clean off, I fire up my own stereo with just about the whitest band the world has ever known: The Clancy Brothers.

For those of you too young to remember the Clancys, they were a staple back in the folky days of the 1960's, playing traditional Irish pub songs on guitar and banjo. Even their sweaters were white.

I ramped up the volume to "11" and let the boys rip into their version of "Whiskey in the Jar" from nigh-on 45 years ago.

Go ahead, I thought, make my day.

Maybe it was the line about producing my pistol, and then producing my rapier, but after a couple of minutes, my problem was solved. No more boom-boom from said Escalade.

Success never smelled as sweet. Or sounded so quiet. Your mileage may vary when you try this technique, and having Dirty Harry's .44 under the front seat as fallback might be a good idea as well.

So...good luck with that... but it worked for me. Once.

Next time, I'll whip out the ultimate weapon of mass destruction, capable of not only shutting down stop-light ghetto rappers, but cleaning out the entire neighborhood in one small tactical mushroom cloud of sonic revenge:

Barbara Streisand.

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